


and now my whole week is golden (can you see me glowing)

by owlvsdove



Series: do you want me too? [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Ice Skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlvsdove/pseuds/owlvsdove
Summary: May sighs. “I liked you more before you were sexually liberated.”(baby gay ice skating au)





	

“Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god,” Jemma mutters anxiously.

On her computer screen, Skye sighs. “You are so cute.”

“I know. Also, thank you. But I need you to focus!”

“Because you’re having a good girl panic attack?”

Jemma gives her a withering look through the webcam. “I’ve never done anything this... _insubordinate_.”

“I know, and I’ll admit that this is a little extreme—”

“ _Extreme_?” Jemma near-shrieks. “Oh, gee, ladies and gentleman, now Skye thinks this is _extreme_.”

“Jemma.”

“It was your idea!”

“Well, honey,” Skye puts her hands up. “It _was_ my idea, but I didn’t actually expect you to—” She stops talking at the sight of Jemma’s widening eyes.

“I’m supposed to get on a plane in the morning!” she hisses.

“And I want you to!” Skye assures. “And I’ll be waiting for you there at the airport. It’s just a little surprising that you would disobey May.”

“I know,” Jemma says glumly. “She’s going to kill me.”

“She’s being a little bit unfair,” Skye points out. “You’re a legal adult and you deserve a break.”

Jemma sighs. “The reason it works between me and May is because we trust each other. My parents trust her to look out for me while I’m here. I don’t want them to think that she’s a bad caretaker.”

Skye frowns. “You think she’ll tell your parents?”

“I don’t know,” Jemma admits. “This is uncharted territory for us.”

“Jemma, I don’t want you to do anything that’s going to jeopardize your one solid relationship,” Skye says.

“What about our relationship?”

Skye smiles. “Besides us.”

“Okay,” Jemma says hesitantly, still twisted up in anxiety.

“I miss you. A lot. But if you’re not comfortable then you shouldn’t come. We’ll just keep working on May and my dad.”

Jemma bunches her lips. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

Jemma rests her cheek on her knee, pacified. “Okay.”

“Besides - me in L.A. and you in Chicago sucks, but me in L.A. and you in London sucks worse. So let’s not do anything to increase the distance,” Skye finishes.

Jemma smiles wide. “I miss you too, by the way.”

“One day,” Skye promises. “Soon. We’ll figure out a way without compromising your adorable morality.”

“You can go,” a voice says from the doorway. Jemma jumps in surprise, nearly knocking her laptop off of her bed in an attempt to hide evidence that doesn’t actually exist.

“What? What happened?” Skye shouts.

Jemma ignores her. May pushes off the door frame and steps into the bedroom.

“Oh my god, _Jemma_ ,” Skye crows. “Did you leave your door open?”

“No!”

May smirks.

“It was closed! I just didn’t notice when she opened it!”

“How?” Skye cackles.

Jemma gives her a look. “I was distracted.”

“Girls, focus,” May breaks in again.

Jemma replays the moment in her head and freezes. “I can go?”

“I wasn’t sure about this one,” May says bluntly, canting her chin towards the laptop. “Now I am.”

Jemma smiles and it’s utterly blinding.

“What time is your flight?” May asks, efficient as ever.

“Eight-thirty.”

“I’ll drive you,” May says simply. And then she turns and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

Jemma collapses backwards onto the bed in a fit of relief, breathing deeply for the first time in hours.

“So you are coming?” Skye asks.

Jemma sits back up to grin at her. “Yup.”

“Well, that was easy.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “For you! I was a nervous wreck.”

“Okay, that’s true,” Skye concedes, head tilting. “What would you like to do to unwind?”

Jemma’s grin turns hungry.

 

 

 

“I assume you’re staying at Skye’s house,” May says, competition travel mug in one hand and the other expertly moving the steering wheel. The sun is far too bright, too flaming orange; but it is early dawn and it’s just breaking on the horizon. Screaming for attention.

“I got a hotel.”

Jemma sneaks a peek and finds May raising a single eyebrow. “Romantic,” she comments.

They’ve never actually discussed the fact that Jemma is dating a girl. Jemma’s never actually admitted out loud, to anyone but her girlfriend, that she is dating a girl.

Not that she thinks May will mind very much. She knows that May loves her, in her own way. It’s just that there’s her career to consider.

“There’s never been an openly gay skater on the women’s side,” Jemma says. It almost sounds conversational. She takes a long pull of tea out of her matching travel mug.

“And there doesn’t have to be,” May says. Jemma’s heart doesn’t have time to sink before— “Until you’re ready to come out.”

Relief is heady - an endorphin high.

“Thank you,” Jemma murmurs, blinking tears away.

May shakes her head. “You’re parents are going to think I made you gay,” she mutters.

“I could just...not tell them?”

May nearly smiles. “They love you.”

Jemma doesn’t comment on that, so May moves on.

“You can still get STDs from a woman, you know,” she says severely, changing the subject.

“I know.”

“At least you can’t get pregnant.”

“A baby might be a good idea. Fitz thinks if I were more bottom-heavy I might be able to keep my sit spins longer,” Jemma reasons, joking now that a crisis has been averted.

“You won’t be able to fit into your leos.”

“I could go nude. No one’s ever done that before either.”

May sighs. “I liked you more before you were sexually liberated.”

Jemma cackles down the highway.

 

 

 

Skye shows up at the airport in cutoffs, sunglasses, and an overly large driver’s sign that says _Michelle Kwan._

She looks very California and, aside from the corny joke, very beautiful. Which makes Jemma feel disgusting, sweaty and sleep-stiff from the plane.

Still, Skye throws an arm tight around her neck and leads her into the parking lot.

Although when Skye starts to jimmy a door open, Jemma stops dead.

“What the hell is this thing?”

Skye shoves her. “It’s my car.” She opens up the back doors and tosses Jemma’s suitcase inside.

“This is _not_ a car.” Big blue monstrosity, more like.

“Hey! Be nice. Gertie is sensitive,” Skye pouts, heaving herself into the driver seat.

Jemma does the same and then twists in her seat to get a better view of the shag-carpeted back of the van.

She cuts a look to Skye. “Is this where you take all the girls?”

Skye rolls her eyes. “You’re my only girl. Or boy. Or anyone.”

Grinning, Jemma leans across the center console to kiss her.

“Although, if you were wondering,” Skye says when they separate. “I did lose my straight virginity back there.”

Jemma expects to feel jealous but is relieved when she somehow isn’t. She takes another look at the cargo area, trying to picture it. “How was it?”

Skye shrugs. “The carpet was pretty comfortable.”

“That’s good,” Jemma says. She stretches out in her seat as Skye starts the car. “Should we crawl back there and give it a go?”

“No, we can’t! I have it all planned out,” Skye whines. She twists to try and back out of the narrow space without hitting anyone.  

Jemma tilts her head, surprised. “Do you?”

“I mean. Sort of. Yes. But I’m flexible.”

Jemma tries not to smile as much as she wants to. Too good to be true. “As long as it’s not the beach. I’m not getting sand in my knickers.”

Skye shoots her a look. “I swear, you just say this British stuff because it gets me hot.”

Even after a long interrogation, Jemma refuses to confess.

 

 

 

Skye lets out a low whistle.

“What?”

“This is the nicest room I’ve ever been in.”

Jemma shifts uncomfortably. “I know this hotel’s a bit much. We could go somewhere else if you like?” Jemma knows Skye didn’t grow up as comfortably as she did, at least until she was adopted.

“Hell no! Are you kidding?” Skye takes a running leap and flops onto the king-size. “This is what years of competition winnings and brand deals get you? Someone should’ve said something.”

Jemma lays down on her side next to her as Skye stares up at the overly modern light fixture. “I just wanted to be sure it was nice in case you wanted to stay here.”

“I mean, yes, I’m definitely staying here,” Skye says. “But I would’ve stayed anywhere as long as you were actually here.”

Jemma squints at her. “You really did think I was going to bail?”

Skye fiddles with Jemma’s shirt a bit. “Yeah. Not because you don’t like me, but because I know things don’t always work out.”

There’s something unsaid here, something about Skye that Jemma’s yet to fully crack open. She lets it rest.

“I’m here,” she says instead. “And with May’s blessing - which is so rare it’s most definitely good luck.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Speaking of which,” Skye sighs. “I should text my Dads and tell them where we are.” She rolls up a bit to get her phone out of her back pocket.

“Do they...know?” Jemma asks suddenly. “Did you end up telling them?” Skye had been going back and forth about whether or not to warn them that her girlfriend was visiting, not just her friend.

“No,” she responds, almost mournful. “I mean obviously they’re gay so it’s not like they’re gonna mind who I date. I just…it’s my business. And it’s still relatively new. And I’m worried about what Dad will say about the skating aspect of it.”

“That’s what I was worried about with May,” Jemma says, resting onto her back so she can look up at the ceiling too.

“Did you guys talk about it?”

“On the way to the airport. She said I could come out if I wanted to.”

“Not that it’s her choice,” Skye points out.

“No, it’s not,” Jemma agrees. “But she’s going to help me through it. If I do.”

“That’s good,” Skye says softly. Then: “I should just tell them.”

“I’m sure it would be fine,” Jemma says. “And if you want me to be there to hold your hand, I can be.”

Skye turns to smile at her. Laces their fingers together. “I like that idea.”

Her phone buzzes angrily and her free hand struggles to silence it. “He wants to know how you feel about pork chops,” Skye reads.

“...Ambivalent?”

She sighs. “Guess we’re having dinner with the Dads.”

 

 

 

“This is delicious, Mr. Coulson,” Jemma remarks. Phil beams. May has mentioned on a few occasions since Skye first joined their division that Phil is rather easily mollified with praise.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Skye fighting a smirk.

“For one of Melinda’s students you have remarkably good taste, Jemma,” Phil says. She supposes that’s meant as a compliment.

“Actually, I’m May’s only student. She left her school to train me full-time.” Jemma knows they already know that, but it’s hard to stop herself from trying to stick up for May.

“Who’s running the rink while she’s gone?” Nick, Skye’s other dad, asks with a smirk. Jemma gets the sense that he quite enjoys riling his husband up.

“Izzy Hartley.”

“Ah, the lesbians,” Phil mutters.

Skye chokes on her brussel sprouts.

“Pardon?” Jemma asks, as politely as she can manage.

“Those girls only joined the club because they wanted to watch each other prance around in skating gear!” Phil insists. “They had no respect for the sanctity of the sport!”

“Dad!” Skye’s eyes widen, horrified. “You’re starting to sound a little homophobic.”

“How can I be homophobic? I’m gay.” He turns to look at Nick for confirmation, who’s shaking his head tiredly.

“That’s like saying ‘I can’t be racist, I’m a white person.’” Skye is starting to get mad, Jemma can see it. She slips a hand under the table to give hers a squeeze.

“How am I racist?” Phil asks. “I have a Black husband and an Asian daughter.” He seems genuinely befuddled.

“Nick!” Skye pleads, eyes wide and imploring.

“Ignore your father, baby girl. He’s a fool,” Nick says. It’s incredible that he’s so laidback when his daughter and husband are so animated and hysterical, respectively.

“I’m just saying,” Phil says, put out. “Victoria Hand doing _Pour Some Sugar On Me_ in a transparent leotard isn’t exactly respectful.”

“Tori’s a lesbian?” Jemma blurts. That’s news to her. Although she did seem to hate men. And...love women. Okay, perhaps Jemma’s missed a few key details.

Phil nods conspiratorially.

“That...makes sense.”

“But you’re a very classy skater, Jemma. Perhaps May’s tastes _on_ the ice have matured, at the very least,” Phil says. This is his version of charitable.

“May is an excellent coach,” Jemma says simply, if not a tad too fiercely.

“That she is,” Nick steps in. And quickly changes the conversation.

 

 

 

“I need to know what happened between them,” Skye is saying. She’s been going on about Phil and May’s relationship for a few minutes now, but Jemma’s distracted.

She’s seen snippets of Skye’s bedroom when they’ve Skyped, but otherwise the space is completely new to her.

After a moment Skye seems to sense that her thoughts are elsewhere. “We painted it together,” Skye says.

Jemma looks back at her.

“They said it was my space and that I could paint it whatever color I wanted, as long we could do it as a family,” she explains.

“That’s sweet,” Jemma says, turning back to collage of pictures and magazine cutouts plastered to the wall next to her vanity.

Behind her, Skye moves to shut the door, then creeps up to wrap her arms around Jemma’s middle, hugging her back. Jemma suddenly realizes what she’s looking at - a snapshot of Skye, flanked by Phil and Nick crouching next to her. Behind her there’s a sign that reads _Welcome Home._

“I was ten,” Skye starts softly. “Lots of families had come to see me. Foster families talked about adopting me. But nothing ever stuck. At that point I knew there was very little chance anyone was going to want me.”

Jemma’s grip tightens on the hands clasped on her stomach.

“And then one day they just showed up. Said that they’d heard about me and that they wanted to get to know me...A few months later they brought me home.”

Jemma can hardly stand it anymore. She twists and pulls Skye close into a hug.

Skye laughs a little. “It’s alright.”

“I know,” Jemma says. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

She pulls back to see Skye’s face, tender and open. She wraps her arms around Jemma’s neck, pulling her close, kissing her deeply.

Her face, when she backs away, is rapturous.   

 

 

 

Skye follows her back to the hotel, but Jemma’s sleepy and stiff and a little too tender to be useful. It’s such a shock to be matched in love, in depth and breadth and hue and shape. It’s an utter shock.

When Jemma gets out of the too-clean hotel shower, Skye has pilfered a t-shirt from her suitcase, snuggled under the covers. Jemma clicks off the light and climbs in behind her, letting her arms wrap around her as tight as her dignity will allow, and watched the moonlight starken their shadows until sleep comes.

 

 

 

“I don’t want you to get upset,” Jemma starts.

“Ah!” Skye mutters as she slams on the brakes abruptly. “Okay?”

“But it’s become clear to me that you’re a terrible driver.”

“Slander!”

“Babe, would you like me to take over?” Jemma asks sweetly.

Skye frowns. “Can you even drive here?”

“No, but I have to imagine I’d be better at it than you.”

Skye shoots her a withering look. “You just don’t understand L.A. traffic.”

“It would perhaps make me feel better if you said that you’re usually a very safe driver,” Jemma opines. “But you’re just terribly distracted to have someone so beautiful in your car.”

“And a celebrity, at that,” Skye deadpans over someone honking at her.

“That’s true, I’m also very famous.”

“I’m not a nervous driver,” Skye says. “But it’s Saturday. Midday. The sun is high.” She’s growing more dramatic. “Frazzled families, beach bunnies, and young lovers—” Jemma pinches her. “—Are making their way to the shore before every single inch of sand is taken up by _tourists_.”

“I’m a tourist,” Jemma says brightly.

“Honey, no. You have me.”

“I’m engaging in tourism.”

“Jemma,” Skye says. “I don’t want our first argument to be about how you’re not a tourist.”

Jemma laughs. “I’ve been to a beach before, you know.”

“Not with me you haven’t.”

Skye isn’t kidding, either. When they arrive, she produces two suntan lotion bottles filled with vodka.

She’s perfect.

They do a bit of drinking, a bit of swimming, a bit of gossiping. Two hours later has them under an umbrella, pleasantly drunk, while Skye lazily reapplies sunscreen to Jemma’s _delicate British skin_. Skye’s words.

“You’re my favorite,” Jemma mumbles. She can practically hear Skye grinning.

“Remind me why we can’t make out here?”

“Because someone might recognize us,” Jemma says glumly, dutifully. Honestly, there’s a good chance no one would, but they’ve been in the news a bit. Winter Olympics prep. Anyone who keeps up with sports news would probably recognize one or both of them at this point.

“Lame,” Skye sighs. She flips the lotion bottle closed and rises to her feet. The fibers from her towel have left a pattern etched into the skin on her knees. Jemma focuses on that tries not to feel like they’re missing out.

 

 

 

“I can’t believe I’m not sunburnt,” Jemma says as she unlocks the hotel room. She flips on the bathroom light but everything else is darkness, casting shadows over Skye slumped onto the wall.

“It’s because I’m magic,” Skye says, waving her fingers. Jemma smiles, and maybe exhaustion compels her to sidle up to Skye and wrap her arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder, swaying in a dance no one else is privy too. Skye holds her tight.

“I’m tired,” Jemma says finally.

“We could sleep,” Skye mumbles.

“I’m dirty.”

“We could shower.” Then Skye startles. “I mean, separately. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean…”

“We could shower together,” Jemma says with half a shrug. She pulls back enough to see Skye’s face. The last thing she wants to do is put pressure on her, but Jemma’s ready. Long past ready.

Skye’s smile peeks out. “This wasn’t my plan either.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” Jemma says.

Skye surges forward to kiss her, walking her backwards towards the bathroom.

 

 

 

“Jemma,” a voice whispers. Something shakes her shoulder. “Jemma!”

She lets out a grumble.

“Wake up. I’m bored.”

She cracks an eye open. It’s still dark - the clock says 1:43 AM.

Clearly Skye grew tired of holding her, because her arms have loosened enough that Jemma can easily roll over to face her. She does have the decency to look guilty, though.

“What’s wrong?” Jemma mumbles. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

Oh, god. That’s precious.

“I’m a little offended that _you’re_ not excited too, but.”

“Excited about—? I am excited,” Jemma says. She scoots closer and wraps her arm around Skye’s middle. “I’m very excited.”

“I know. I was kidding. Mostly.”

Clearly this is something Skye’s fighting herself on. With great effort, Jemma heaves herself up to sitting and clicks on the lamp. She squints. “Come here.” She opens her arms up and lets Skye settle back against her chest. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

It takes her a minute to gather up the words. “I don’t know why I have all this energy inside of me,” Skye says. “I should be exhausted. And I was for a little while. But I can’t close my eyes right now.” She pauses. “We did it. We had sex. We’re dating each other. We like each other.”

“A lot,” Jemma adds.

“A lot,” Skye confirms. “But I feel nervous now, all of a sudden. I don’t know why.”

Jemma ponders this for a moment. “Are you worried about the sex? Because it was great. Amazing. Stupendous.”

Skye laughs a little. “No, I know that. I mean, the mechanics were a little different this time but I know I’m pretty good at that.”

“Okay,” Jemma says. “Are you nervous about your parents?”

“No.” She sounds surprised by this. She fidgets, restless. “I just don’t want this to end.”

“Well,” Jemma starts, and she struggles to find words that aren’t absurdly sappy, or, at worst, a lie. “Nothing has to end if we don’t want it to.”

“You have to go home…” Skye trails off, but even that isn’t quite what’s eating at her.

“Sure, but we were dating for three months when I was home, too.”

Skye sighs, starting to get frustrated with herself. “I’m restless.”

Something in Jemma clicks, a lightbulb going off. “I have an idea.”

 

 

 

“Breaking and entering? That’s so hot,” Skye groans. She’s still a little upset, but more settled now that they have a plan.

“It’s your rink, you’re going to have to do the breaking,” Jemma responds.

“That’s okay. I learned how to pick a lock when I was a kid. Plus I know the alarm code.” Skye leans down to inspect the lock.

“Do I want to know why?”

“I used to work here,” Skye says as she jimmies the door. “Just sometimes, to help pay for rink time. And sometimes I’d have to close up.”

Once again, Jemma’s reminded of just how utterly privileged she is. She works - she does competitions, appearances, brand deals, commercials - all to support her skating. But it’s only because she had parents who were willing and able to pay for all of her expenses in the beginning.

Not that they were willing to do much else. But that’s another story.

“You’re incredible,” Jemma says again, but it’s timed with the click of the door opening, so Skye just grins at her.

Once the alarm code is taken care of and the lights are on, Skye pilfers a few pairs of skates from the rental counter. The ice was freshly cleaned before closing, so it’ll be obvious that someone was here in the night.

“I hope no one gets in trouble because of us,” Jemma finishes.

“It’s okay. The zamboni driver is an asshole. He deserves to get reprimanded.”

Jemma giggles. Skye wastes no time taking her hand, toting her along until Jemma matches her pace so they can skate side by side.

They do a few laps hand in hand. They race. They practice their jumps. Jemma takes a critical eye to Skye’s triple Axel - this includes a lot of falling. Skye tries to lift Jemma (“It looked so easy in your Juniors videos!”) - this also includes falling. They make out against the rim until Jemma’s hands get so cold she can’t get a proper grip on Skye’s ass.

In the warm night air, after they close up the rink again, Jemma stops her. “How do you feel now?”

Skye steps in close, kisses her long and slow. Lazy in a way that implies great reverence and great privilege.

“Much better,” she says finally, once Jemma’s breathless. “How are you?”

Jemma takes a moment to think about it. “Hungry.”

Skye throws her head back and laughs.

 

 

 

Skye makes the brilliant point that it’s nearly six AM by the time they get back to the hotel - they might as well wait until the kitchen opens to order room service; and hmm, whatever could they do to pass the time…

Dawn rising. Tired bones. Slow. Sweet.

They feed each other bites of pancake. They sleep til noon.

 

 

 

“Dads?” Skye calls. The afternoon is deepening rapidly on Jemma’s last day in town, and business has to be taken care of.

“In here,” Phil calls from the living room. He and Nick are cocooned together in blankets, watching TV.

Skye marches in, leading Jemma by the hand. She takes a huge breath: “I’m gay. I’m really gay. I don’t want to not be gay anymore so I’m telling you now that I’m gay. Jemma’s my girlfriend. And I’m gay.”

Phil is silent in surprise.

Nick shrugs. “Runs in the family,” he reasons.

And that was the perfect thing to say, because Skye starts to cry.

 

 

 

Nick and Phil take them out for frozen yogurt, because that seems like a _positive and affirming response_ —Phil’s words, no doubt lifted from a parenting book—and then Skye and Jemma curl up in Skye’s bed, not bothering with the hotel. It’s Jemma’s last chance to soak in as much of Skye as possible; where better to do it than here?

“What was your plan?” Jemma asks suddenly.

“Huh?”

“For our first time.”

“Oh god,” Skye mutters, embarrassed. “It involved a lot of candles. Like probably too many candles to be safe. Also a demi-cup bra and a certain pop album that I realize now is sort of cliche.”

Jemma grins widely. “That’s adorable.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Next time then,” Skye says, sounding pleased with herself.

But the thought of next time sucks the air out of the moment. Jemma has to fly home in the morning. She has to get back to work, back to training. So does Skye, really. This is the longest break either of them has had in a while. And it’ll be the last, considering they’re six months out from a career-making competition.

“The exhibition’s in a few weeks,” Skye says, trying to look on the bright side. Seven weeks, to be precise. That’s the next time they’ll be in the same place. But they’ll be working, and they’ll be closeted. Jemma says as much.

“My parents know now,” Skye says more confidently. “May knows. They’re gonna help us make this work.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Jemma whines. Skye shifts so that Jemma is straddling her, arms around her back, aligned and hugged tight. She pulls the blanket around them like a cocoon.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Skye says softly.

“We could run away and live on a commune,” Jemma suggests, but she’s miserable about it.

“You’re really embracing the stereotype.”

“We could get dogs,” she continues, utterly morose.

“Shouldn’t we get cats?”

“I’m a dog person,” Jemma insists.

Skye smiles, running her hand up and down Jemma’s back soothingly. “So am I.”

“I love you. I think.”

And the response comes out of Skye like it’s just another breath: “I love you. I know I do.”

Jemma gets rather distracted after that.

 

 

 

They do it once more in Skye’s van in short-term parking at LAX. A rolicking send off. Better than tears.

 

 

 

“What did you do with my rink time while I was gone?” Jemma asks May absently as they go into practice the next morning.

“I used it.”

Jemma stops dead, careening around to peer at May in shock.

“ _You_ skated?”

“Yup.”

Jemma makes a high-pitched noise of distress. “But I’ve been waiting to see that for an actual _decade!_ Melinda May in the flesh! It’s not fair!”

“You deserve it for lying to me about going to see Skye in the first place,” May reasons.

Jemma sobers, nodding. “You’re right.” Then she sighs. “Ugh. I can’t believe I missed it!”

“Did you have fun?”

Jemma tries not to smile so wide. “Yes.”

“Then you didn’t miss anything. You deserve that too.”

Jemma quashes the urge to hug her. But she lets her smile happen.

 

 


End file.
